


Less Than Extraordinary, More Than Average.

by Westbrook



Series: The Continuing Adventures of Ivan and Tej Vorpatril [2]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Westbrook/pseuds/Westbrook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivan comes to a realization.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Less Than Extraordinary, More Than Average.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally **not** the next segment of the Continuing Adventures of Ivan and Tej. However, I couldn't justify not including it in that series, as it has too many themee in common with the original.
> 
> Ivan is probably OOC in this fic. 
> 
> Takes place shortly after the end of CVA.
> 
> Ivan Vorpatril, Tej Vorpatril, and all other associated characters within the Vorkosigan Saga are rightfully the property of Lois McMaster Bujold, who is a much better writer than I ever shall be. I own nothing, please don't set the lawyers on me!

On a world far away from anywhere else, in a villa where the waves shushed onto the sand outside, Ivan Vorpatril found himself unable to sleep. 

Tej, beside him, slumbered deeply, splayed out, and Ivan took a brief moment to admire his wife-And it was still an interesting phrase, a year later, his wife. The rise and fall of her chest distracted him for a few minutes, and the moonlight glimmered softly off of her skin, her deep tan making her look polished. Tej slept easily, and for a moment, Ivan laid there, matching his breathing to his wife's, trying to join her.

No good. He was up, and nothing was going to change that. Ivan grimaced, and moving slowly, slid out of bed, throwing on his robe-There was a chill this evening-and padding quietly toward the kitchen. He fixed himself a glass of Yllan blue apple juice, and drank it leaning against the counter. Even emptying the glass, cleaning it and putting it away did no good. Ivan sighed. He wasn't prone to this restlessness, it was much more Miles' speed. 

Miles...For a moment, Ivan's heart ached, and he missed-Well, not his crazed little cousin, hyperactive git, though it was a bit of that. But more, he missed Barrayar, his family, as insane and powerful as they were. Ivan glanced at the chrono, automatically translating Yllan time to Barrayaran. It was close to midday in Vorbarr Sultana. Gregor and Miles would probably be eating lunch with their families-Unless there was a crisis, both Emperor and Auditor insisted that their days be as normal as possible, and family lunches were a part of that. Perhaps they were even eating together, either at the Residence or Vorkosigan House. Duv was likely at his desk, doing a working lunch, or else he had managed to wrangle an hour to go home to Delia and his family. Mamere and Simon were probably out to lunch somewhere impeccable, in both service and food. Mamere had mentioned finding, quote, "a wonderful new Russian restaurant, headed by a quite excellent cook, that has a superb borscht that Simon is fond of," unquote. 

Was he homesick? Ivan paused for a moment to consider this thought, and came to the conclusion, yes, he probably was. It wasn't like him to have these moods-That was definitely more Miles' department. But as much as Ivan liked Ylla, and hated dealing with the politics inherent in the capitol, for better or worse, it was home. 

Not wanting to go back to bed and stare at the ceiling, or worse, wake up Tej, Ivan wandered through the house, ending up at his office. It was a small room, only a desk with a comconsole and a pair of chairs. It was rarely used, as most business could be done at the consulate, but Tej had insisted that he needed an office ("All powerful men do Ivan Xav," and there had be a wicked light in her eyes and a purr in her voice that caused a great amount of distraction and avoidance of the discussion, and establishment of a _fait accompli_ ), and Ivan had gotten an office.  
He paused for a moment, tapping lightly on his desk. It had a pretty good view, overlooking the sea. 

Ivan dropped into his chair. Since he was up, he could get started on this week's business, and have it done. Tej had been discussing seeing more of the planet, and more to point, Kareen Koudelka had sent Ivan a message, asking if he would keep an eye out for interesting investment opportunities. She and Mark were always on the lookout for ways to expand MPVK, and Ivan wished them all the best, although he did consider sending her a reply that he was a **military** attache, and not a **business** attache. Though considering that Barrayar's presence on Ylla was himself and Consul Vorzind, he supposed he might double in that role as well. 

The Vorpatril seal dagger caught his attention, glimmering in the moonlight, and Ivan picked it up, turning slowly in his hands. He normally kept in his desk, but he had received an official letter earlier, and decided to use it as a letter opener. Why not?  
Ivan considered the dagger for a moment. It had been a gift, from Gregor to Ivan personally, and Ivan sometimes found himself wondering _why_. Gregor had called a reward, but Ivan wasn't sure. A reminder, perhaps, of his station? Ivan wasn't Miles, to carry a fancy shiny dagger, owned by his family for generations, as a sign that he was worthy of his status, of his life, a silent defiance and statement all in one to Barrayaran attitudes about his appearance. Ivan had never wanted to stand out, to blaze the paths and reach the heights that Miles had aspired to.

But then again, he hadn't needed-or wanted-to. Miles needed to be extraordinary to survive, wanted to be extraordinary to prove everyone who doubted wrong, and anyone who believed right. While that insanity had thankfully been tamped down with his marriage to Ekaterin and the arrival of his children, Miles would always need to go above and beyond. Ivan...never had, never wanted to. 

Never could? He sat in his desk chair for a moment, lightly tapping the blade against the desk.  
Ivan had been cruising along, average, for so long, to avoid attention-Attention as a plot point against Gregor, attention as a possible heir for Gregor, attention from a woman to think him ready for marriage or a commitment. But now....Now, Gregor was happily married, and with three kids, the lines of succession were assured. Uncle Aral, Miles and his kids, not to mention Mark, stood in between him and the Vorkosigan Countship, and there was more chance of Old Earth spinning backwards than of Count Falco choosing Ivan as his heir, Lord Vorpatril in truth (though a certain Imperial cousin had suggested it once or twice, only partially joking, _thank you ever so much, **Gregor,** for giving Ivan a near heart attack) _. And he was actually committed, to a woman he loved and who had become a part of him. 

So did this mean that Ivan could be more? Could he stand to be, if not extraordinary, than stop being average? Being worthy of something? 

Slowly, a smile split his lips. He would dodge and complain, prevaricate and whine, but in his soul, the deepest part of him, Ivan Vorpatril came to the conclusion that he was ready for more. 

His lips moved, unbidden, and he suddenly stated, in a quiet, firm tone, "Let Ivan be Ivan." 

Ivan blinked after a moment. "'Let Ivan be Ivan?' What kind of pablum is that? Have I suddenly become Miles, that I need to have a soul-searching crisis? God forbid." He shuddered. Suddenly, he found that he was tired after all. Ivan yawned and stretched, going at first to place the dagger back in a drawer, before stopping, and centering it on his desk. He rose, and padded back to his bedroom, where he shucked the robe and slid in next to Tej. Wrapping her firmly in his arms, Ivan closed his eyes, ready to face the future.


End file.
